Shadows
by NIGHTWING EpIcNeSs
Summary: One by one they all vanished. One by one they left me alone, forgotten. I can't blame them though. I'm they reason their dead. -one shot-


**Shadows**

**Hey! It's me, Babs! Ok, so I read a fanfic, called "The Boy in the Mirror" by ****Fighter1357** **and it sort of inspired me to write this. Check out her story! Ok, this is a one shot, and it is similar to her idea, but just turn the entire situation around and take out the mirror and change it so- just read. You'll understand. So, here is my crappy excuse for a hurt/comfort. Only take out the comfort part. Enjoy!**

**Umm, I'd say that these are the ages:**

**Beginning of story: Dick & Barbara are both 18.**

***Damian is 8 years younger than Dick in this.**

**The rest of the ages shall be said later in the story. :)**

**WARNING: EXTREME AU**

…**..**

"Dick?" Barbara's voice was quiet, but held confusion. I looked down, and saw her, standing there. Her hair was softly flowing against the wind, and she was wrapped in a quilt. Her green eyes glistened in the moonlight, and her feet were bare. She stared back at me. Thirty feet above her, I sat quietly. My hands holding me up, and my feet dangling. My cotton shirt and black jeans did little to help me from the cold breeze. Her hands traced the bottom of the tree, until she found a good branch. Pulling herself up, she began to climb. I remained silent.

I heard her feet scrape against the bark, and I stayed in my spot, shivering slightly. I felt her body sit next to mine, and her quilt wrapped around my body. I felt her stare at me. And I felt myself turn to look at her.

"Dick…" My name was voiced again, but this time not with confusion but sympathy. "It wasn't…" her voice stopped. I felt her lean into me and hug me. "It wasn't your fault." She whispered.

I turned my head to look at her, and I saw tears in her eyes. "I miss him to." She whispered to me, trying to give me comfort. I wanted so badly to cry, to give myself luxury of crying. I wanted to hug her all tell her that I broken inside. I didn't deserve it, though. I didn't deserve to mourn.

"I could've done something… I could've-"

"But you didn't. There was no way you could've known. There was no way that you could've known what was going to happen."

"I had enough information. I should've told them to get out. To evacuate. But I didn't. I told them to keep going. I'm the reason Timmy's dead." I turned away and looked at the ground below me. My hair blew in my face, and my naked feet stopped swinging and went still. "I deserve to die." I whispered it so quietly, I barely heard it myself. I didn't think I spoke it aloud, but I heard it. I had thought it so many times, and now I finally had said it aloud. It was the truth.

"Don't." I felt Barbara's hand cup my chin, and pull my face in her direction. She stared at me. "Don't you ever. Say anything. Like that again. You have way too much for me, for the team, for _him. _You are more important than anything. Don't ever say you deserve to die." I felt tears prick my eyes, and I bit the inside of my lip. I didn't deserve to cry.

"I promised him." I whispered to her. My eyes stared into her's, and she opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it. She stayed silent, and I took that as my cue to continue talking. "I promised I would look after him. I told him I would protect him- just like Bruce did. Bruce is gone because of me. Jason's gone 'cus of me. Stephanie's gone because of me. Wally's gone because of me. Gar and Bart and Cassie are all gone because of me. I told him I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt him. I promised him. I promised." I waited for her to answer, for her to reply, but she never did. "You and Dami and Alfred are all I have left. Please… Please, please Barbara. Leave. Take Dami and Alfie and leave." I stared at her. And waited. For half an hour I waited. But she never replied. Finally, as she began to climb down the tree, she looked at me. In the softest, most sweetest voice ever, she said simply,

"I would never leave." I watched her descend down to the grass, and I watched as she walked back into the manor, with her quilt hugged tightly around her. I watched her light in her room turn off, and i stayed there. I stayed in the tree until I was positive she was asleep. It was then that I looked at her window, and whispered,

"I promise."

...

Two months later, she died on a mission with Jamie and Megan. That mission had been directed by Nightwing.

...

"Dami! Training!" I yelled up the stairs. Damian, who was now twelve, appeared momentarily, and slid down the railing. Already in sweats and a wife beater, he began to walk towards the grand father clock. Following close behind, I set up a simulation on level seven, and went into the locker room and changed into my training attire as well. As I put on my black sweat pants, I heard a successful cry of triumph come from the main training area. Walking out, I saw Damian by twenty eight holographic robots, all broken and shattered.

"Good warm up." Walking back to the controls, I set it on level nine out of twelve, and a fog began to set around Damian. Forty six armed holo robots began to dispatch and I watched from the sidelines as he successfully took out each one. One robot flew through the air and landed about six feet away from me. Going over to throw it back in, I noticed what it landed by. A large glass case loomed over the robot, and inside was a suit. It was a dark red, with black spandex and a black cape. A black and white domino mask floated above the suit, and I stared at it, compelled by it. "Jason…" I breathed.

"Wasn't he Todd? The second Robin?" Startled by Damian's voice, I jumped, and turned around, to see him scratchless and unharmed, standing in front of every single holo robot- each disarmed and broken. The robots began to fade away, and the fog lifted.

"Y-yeah. Come on, lets do some sparring."

After Barbara had died, I went into deep depression. I didn't care that I was locking myself away from people. Damian still had Alfred. But three months after her death, I told Alfred to take a vacation. I gave him a plane ticket for the next day. He boarded the plane , where he was murdered by a woman on the flight. Taking it upon myself to take care of Dami, I began to patrol with him at night, as Batman. I gave up on Nightwing. To many people died in Nightwing's hands. The suit was never hung up. I threw it away. It was a curse. Yet it still lay in my room.

Grabbing two bow staffs, I flung one at Damian, who caught it expertly in his right hand. Turning on the machine who announced spars, I stepped onto the large mat, as did my brother.

"Grayson, I'm going to kick your-"

"Hajime!" I yelled, interrupting him. He ran at me, and I expertly flipped out of the way. Jabbing my bo staff towards him, he did the same. We copied moves for a while, before he started to create his own attacks. I began to get the better of him, and I moved my staff up, only to diagonally fling it at the back side of his left knee. He tripped, but dropped his staff and used his palms to land in a push up position. Pushing himself back up, he twisted and kicked my staff out of my hands. I began to used karate against him as he used judo.

"Dick…" I froze. Damian had not moved his lips. Neither did I. I knew that voice.

"Barbara?" I stood still, and felt my feet get kicked out from under me. Dami jabbed his bo staff at my chest, and I stared blankly at him. I had been two years… She was gone.

"Grayson. You lost." I ignored him as I picked up my bo staff and put it in it's holder.

"Dami… I'm not feeling well. You can continue training. I'll… I'll be upstairs." I replied, already walking to the locker rooms.

After changing and walking back upstairs, I entered the kitchen and turned on the stove. Cooking lunch, I turned on my phone and plugged it into a speaker. Putting my one thousand thirty four songs on shuffle, I grabbed a bag of frozen orange chicken and began stirring it on a pan. After I finished making lunch, I sat down in Bruce's- I mean my- living room and turned on the TV. Turning on some news show, I leaned back and rolled my eyes at the news story.

"_I'm here in Brooklyn, at the very spot where the video was shot. This is far from any building or light, and the stars are completely visible. After research was done at the Brooklyn West University, studies show that all power had gone out for ten point two seconds unexplainable, which was the exact time during to footage of the video. Was this really a UFO? The government had been alerted, and have gotten word from the Justice League that none of their aircrafts were flying at the time. Back to you Dean and Carole."_

"_Thanks Marzia! Here is the footage itself!"_

I watched as the ten second long video began to play, but I didn't see any night sky. Nor did I see any 'UFO'. There on the screen, was Barbara Gordon And she was staring at me.

"You need to come with us, Dick."

Throwing my plate at the TV I screamed.

"Shut up! JUST. SHUT. UP!" The large flat screen was now smashed, and I brought my knees to my chest. Glass from the plate was scattered on the floor, and I stared at the screen in anticipation. Nothing happened. Walking to my room, I layed on the bed, and threw my shirt on the floor. My room was trashed, as was my bathroom and the kitchen, but that was what happened when you have no butler for a thirteen months. I stretched my arms out, and stared at the ceiling. The fan was on, and I felt myself calm down. Closing my eyes, I saw a shadow in the corner of the ceiling. Looking up, I saw nothing but my parents Flying Grayson poster. It was just a poster, completely lifeless and immovable. My mother's hand was in an outwards position, as if reaching towards me. I stared at the poster, confused. Her hand was always by her side… I began to turn and lay down again, when her hand turned into a fist, and her body faded from the picture.

"_Richard!"_

"MOM!" I reached a hand towards her, and blinked. When my eyes opened, her body was there, as was her hand at her side. I sighed. This was insane. Sliding off the bed, I grabbed a random shirt and pulled it over my sweating body. Walking down to the batcave, I ran a hand through my hair. "Damian!" I wasn't exactly surprised to see him still training. He looked up at me.

"What is it Grayson?" I furrowed my eyebrows together.

"You'll be going out on patrol alone tonight. Be careful. The Joker is loose and I don't want you running into trouble."

"Relax. I would kick his-"

"Suit up."

...

That night, Damian Wayne was murdered by the Joker.

...

It had been three years since that day. Three years since I lost the final person in my life. Three years since I resigned as leader of the team, and three years since I lost all contact with anyone associated with them.

I constantly heard their voices. Barbara. Bruce. Tim Jason. Cassandra. Alfred. Stephanie- but no Damian. After another year, I stopped hearing them. All the shadows faded, and all the whispers disappeared. It was as if I was… forgotten. Left behind. Alone.

"That's the last of the boxes Mr. Grayson. Would you like anything else?"

"No."

"Okay then. Please sign here, here, and here." I took the pen and signed the paper. Pulling a smile, I said,

"Thank you. And you must have confused me with Dick Grayson. He died a few months ago. Please, call me Freddy Johnson"

"Of course Mr. care." Taking the paper, he and his movers left the house. I looked around me. My was a standard two story, but much larger. My yard- both front and back- were extremely vast. So, the neighbors' houses were hundreds of yards away. Even though no one lived in those houses though. I walked inside, and was met with hundreds of boxes, all full of useless items I probably didn't need. Yet I never had the courage to throw them away. Sighing, I walked towards a box, in the center of the room, that had a florescent glow. Raising an eyebrow, I put of my hands to grab it, but it rolled away. Running towards it again, it rolled away, again. Frustrate, and confused, I ran towards it once again, only for it to roll away. This when on for a few minutes, until it rolled into a corner. Firmly gripping it, I opened it up, and saw a single item inside the cardboard box.

The Nightwing suit.

A chill ran through the room, and I lightly traced my fingers across the fabric. And as i did I felt a faint hand grabbed mine.

"_Grayson…" _

"Stop! You're dead! You're DEAD!" I broke down in sobs. This wasn't happening. Not again. Cries escaped my throat. I threw the suit on the ground, and suddenly all cold air stop. All strange noises and hands stopped. Everything went silent. Slowly, I cautiously put my hand back on the suit. And once again, I felt a hand, I felt cold air around me, and I heard it.

"_Grayson if you can hear me… please come back. Father doesn't believe me when I say that I know you're there. I know you respond. They said you stopped responding a long time ago. Please… come back." _I looked at the suit. This… this wasn't happening.

I let go of the suit, and ran away from it. I ran into the living room, and took deep breaths. Running a hand through my hair, I began to unpack my things. Days went by, and I returned to a normal lifestyle, as Freddy Johnson. I created a room for all of their belongings. I made a room where I set everything up just like Jason's room had been. I did the same for everyone else. Making it feel as if they were still there. The house had ten bedrooms. Three on the first floor, and six on the second. The last one was hidden behind the closet in my room. I made several glass cases, and hung each of their suits in them. I set up the batcomputer, and made a mini-batcave. It took me a week to finish my mini-batcave. But once I completed it, I shut the door, and never entered it again.

Everything was unpacked, and I settled in, but the box was still in the corner, and I left it there.

Another week went by -three weeks since I moved in- and I forgot all about the encounter… mostly. As I was walking to the kitchen one day, I noticed the bow giving off the same glow as the first day I moved in. I stopped in my tracks and slowly set the bowl of cereal on the counter. Looking to my sides nervously, I gulped, and entered the empty room. Kneeling down, I folded the flaps down, and cautiously set my hand on the fabric of the suit.

"_Please, show me a sign Grayson. I overheard Father talking to Todd and Gordon about forgetting you. Do something. Show me that you're there. I need to remember. Twitch your eyes, curl your toes, make a fist. Do Something Grayson!" _I remained still. Then, I slowly cupped the suit in my hand and made a fist, I heard a low sigh erupt through the room. "_...Thank you. Now if only Father would know that you're there. Don't leave. Grayson… I- I trust you. Besides Father, you are the person I trust. I can't have you leave. I don't want to forget… not like the others."_ And that was how it went. I spent almost every second of the day next to the box, gripping the suit to my chest and calming at the sound of Damian's voice. I would sit there for hours listening to him talk of the others, and I would see shadows flit across the room. I would see shadows walked towards me, but it was always the same. It was a fifteen year old boy, and he would always sit down across from me as I listened. I never saw him, but I saw his shadows on the wall.

Soon, he became my only friend. I would run into the team every now and then as they searched for NIghtwing, but the never recognized me. They would call my name but never notice. They never noticed that I was standing right next to them. I had been forgotten… Yet I still had a single friend. One person who I thought of as my lifeline. He talked of everything, and I would listen. I make fists, or curled my toes when he asked. That was how he knew I was listening.

This went on for three years. On my twenty sixth birthday, Damian told me stories of how he went out and repeatedly beat up the Joker for me. Even though the Joker died when Tim died. Damian was a ghost, and so was Joker. I laughed when he said he painted my room blue for me. I sat there for the entire day, listening to what him. I t was the best day I have ever had- since Jason died when I was sixteen. One day, in late August, I held the suit and waited for Damian to talk.

"_Grayson, I turned eighteen last week. I- I'm leaving you soon. College begins in a few days and I have talked to Father about online college. I promise I will be back. I promise."_

That was the last time I ever heard him say anything. I never felt cold air, or a comforting voice when I held the suit. All that I felt was calvar between my fingers. I eventually gave up. After seven months of waiting, I closed to box up and put it in the tenth room. Where I never entered it again.

I went back to my life in solitude, and spent my days writing stories and making money off of them. Not that I needed money. On April 1st, 2028, on the 21 anniversary of my parent's deaths. One and a half years after Damian stopped talking to me, I layed on my bed. And stared at the ceiling. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow, exactly where I saw the poster move in the manor nine years ago. I sat up, and walked to my closet. Something was missing. Opening the secret door, I walked up the stairs into the hidden room, and ran to one of the walls. Hanging by itself, the only item on the wall, was my Flying Graysons poster. I stared at it, and a tear escaped my left eye. Blinking, I ripped it off the wall and began towards the door, when a shadow moved into the room and into a corner. Following it, I saw it sit down in a sitting position next to the box. And the box let out a faint glow.

I dropped the poster and ran towards the box, ripping it open. Inside was my Nightwing suit, and I gripped in in my hands, and held it to my chest. Damian…

Yet the voice that greeted me was not Damian.

"_Hi Dick. It's Barbara. I know that maybe if you can hear me, you may have expected Damian. He went off to college and well, never return our calls. He kinda just left from our lives. Well… Yesterday he left a message, and he said he was dying. he was poisoned, and even the best hospitals couldn't find a cure. He told me specifically to tell you.. to tell you that he was sorry. He said he had promised. He told me that you were… you were his only friend. Please, if you can hear me Dick, please show me that you are there. Tell me that Damian was right. Tell me that for all those days he said you were there, listening, prove to me that he was right. He said that he had promised to find a way… To bring you to us."_ I remained still, and lifeless. He… he was gone. A small sob escaped my lips, and I felt tears repeatedly run down my face, falling onto the Nightwing insignia on the suit. I felt myself break, and I felt myself tremble. "_Right… I figured that maybe you weren't really there. He kind of took the separation hard. You had been his only friend. He trusted you more than any of us… ever if he didn't admit it. I'm sorry Dick. We can't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry."_ And with that, the connection stopped, and I once again felt utterly alone.

I stayed in that spot for hours. Crying until sundown. Crying for Damian. Crying for my parents. Crying for the world. Crying for myself. I was once again alone. I felt no comfort, no joy, no happiness. All I felt was emptiness. Pure emptiness.

….

That night, at eleven forty eight, I found myself at the edge of a cliff, holding the Nightwing suit in my hands. My face no longer had tears, for my tear ducts were empty. I was staring into the waters of the ocean, hundreds of feet below me. I counted the seconds passing, and counted sixty for each person I let die. Ten minutes. Ten people. Mom… Dad… Jason... Cassandra... Stephanie... Alfred... Bruce... Barbara... Tim... Damian… All dead. All because of me. Because of Nightwing. Because of my life. Because I was born. I looked down at my feet, I am a murderer. I belong to be forgotten. To be alone. I closed my eyes, and let the fabric of the suit slip between my fingers. I heard it rumble in the wind as it fell, and I didn't open them until I knew it was gone. I counted to sixty, and began to whisper everyone's names.

At 11:59pm on April 1st, 2028, I jumped.

And as I jumped, I could have sworn I saw ten shadows at the edge of the cliff, where I stood seconds before. One final tear escaped my eye, and I whispered,

"I'm sorry."

…

"Barbara, it's been thirteen years since he slipped into the coma."

"Please-"

"You and I both know that he won't wake up." I sighed.

"Yes Bruce, I know." He nodded, and I looked into his eyes, waiting for him to answer. Everyone had talked to him, and I was begging Bruce to stop his plan. I looked around the room, and saw everyone sitting in chairs. Jason, Cass, and Alfred occupied sofa chairs, and Tim and Steph sat on the two seat sofa. Everyone had tears in their eyes. I looked back at Bruce, "Maybe- maybe Damian was right Bruce! Maybe he knew that there was something that happened when he talked to him!"

"Well he isn't here to tell us that is he?!" Bruce yelled at me. I shifted my gaze to the ground. Damian's death from earlier had hit us hard. Especially Bruce. I let out a shaky breath.

"Just- Just let me say one final thing to him." I didn't look up as I walked away from Bruce. I enter the room, which Damian had painted blue for Dick's twenty seventh birthday. In the room was a single bed, a rug, and a chair next to the bed. No desk, dresser or closet occupied the room. The walls were bare, and I felt nervous as I entered the room. Sitting down on the chair, I look at the occupant laying on the bed. Grasping his hand, I spoke to him.

"Hi Dick. It's Barbara. I know that maybe if you can hear me, you may have expected Damian. He went off to college and well, never return our calls. He kinda just left from our lives. Well… Yesterday he left a message, and he said he was dying. he was poisoned, and even the best hospitals couldn't find a cure. He told me specifically to tell you.. to tell you that he was sorry. He said he had promised. He told me that you were… you were his only friend. Please, if you can hear me Dick, please show me that you are there. Tell me that Damian was right. Tell me that for all those days he said you were there, listening, prove to me that he was right. He said that he had promised to find a way… To bring you to us." I waited a few moments for a response, but got none. Sighing, I continued.

"Right… I figured that maybe you weren't really there. He kind of took the separation hard. You had been his only friend. He trusted you more than any of us… ever if he didn't admit it. I'm sorry Dick. We can't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry." I let go of his hand as I began to cry. Exiting the room, I met everyone's stares at me, hoping for news. Shaking my head, I sat down on a empty couch and began to think of the memories.

We all gathered around his bed that night, and Bruce walked towards the outlet where his life support was being powered. He all stared at him and began to cry. Finally, Bruce put his hand on the plug and pulled it. But as he did, we saw Dick's eyes flutter, and he whispered,

"I'm sorry."

At 11:59pm, on April 1st, 2028, Dick Grayson was taking off life support, and ended his thirteen year long coma.

…...

**Ok. I know it sucked. And I know this was way confusing. So let me clear this up. **

**When Dick was 16, Jason was captured by the Joker. But so was Dick. In the explosion, Jason didn't die, but Dick entered a coma. In his coma, he heard people, and saw them because he could still communicate. When they 'died' they actually stopped being able to talk to him while he was in a coma. Sorry this was terribly written. :( **


End file.
